But where does a father without a team start? Should he embrace the Mets’ straightforward geographic proximity to his family, or resurrect his younger allegiance to the Red Sox (jettisoned after he found Boston fandom parochial)? Can he protect his daughter by supporting the apparent Korean-friendliness of the Dodgers, or is that too contrived?

We asked readers to share the origin stories of their sports fandoms. For some, devotion was handed down through family; others discovered their favorite teams at various stages in life. A selection of responses, edited for length and clarity, follows.

Forever Rooting for the Underdog

I fell in love with the Oakland Athletics at the age of 5. Everything about this team appealed to me, and still does. The A’s represent every reason to be romantic about baseball. They are roughly the 28th- or 29th-most majestic franchise in the league, and they play in a stadium known as more of a septic tank than a jewel box. Yet their status as the redheaded stepchild of not just the Bay Area but also the American League only motivates the spirit and beauty of the A’s brand of baseball. An A’s win is more than a victory against another team. It validates the promise that baseball was founded on: in the end, that it’s a child’s game, and that every man is equally armed with a bat, glove and ball.

Believing in the American dream requires a certain suspension of critical thinking, and cheering for the Oakland A’s activates that same innate sense of idealism. I don’t think I’ll ever see them win the World Series. Yet it’s that deliberate surrender to the irrational that makes watching baseball worthwhile. Daniel (photograph above), Alameda, Calif.

Vin Scully Raised Me

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Five-year-old Carter and his sister, Patricia, covered in Dodgers gear and cake batter in 2001.CreditJulie Cohen

When I think of baseball, one thing always comes to mind: the paradoxically soothing and exciting voice of Vin Scully. Before I even liked the sport, I understood that Los Angeles had one team, and that was Scully’s team. As a 7-year-old boy discovering the sometimes inexplicable beauty of baseball, I thought of Scully as a sort of godlike figure. Without seeing his face, I listened intently to the pithy anecdotes and surprisingly wise histories he told night after night.

Inextricably tied together, the Dodgers and Vin Scully raised me, nourished me, showed me why the world needs baseball. As my parents changed jobs and I moved schools and homes, there was always a voice and a team I could count on. As I watched Scully’s final game as the Dodgers’ broadcaster, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I realized my world was about to lose something that it had never gone without.

As the demands of life become more complex, the Dodgers still provide the simple pleasure of baseball. Just as that clueless 7-year-old boy understood, my still clueless 21-year-old self understands one thing: The power of baseball is unlike anything else. Carter, Los Angeles

Loyalty to the Mets Is a Family Birthright

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Lindsay and her father, Craig, at the Mets’ Opening Day in April 2016.CreditCourtesy of Lindsay Sklar

Among the myriad traits I inherited from my father, the most significant is not my eyes or my hands but rather my steadfast (often gut-wrenching) devotion to the New York Mets. My love of the Mets was instilled by my father like religion; I don’t remember becoming a fan; it is simply who we were.

I do remember the moment at which I defended my fandom — getting into a physical fight with a Yankee fan, a boy twice my size, during the tense 2000 Subway Series. Since then, I’ve worn my orange and blue proudly (In fact, I think one of my happiest moments was when I had overheard my dad boast to a peer, “My daughter bleeds orange and blue!”).

I’ve since grown up, reuniting with my dad as much as possible at Citi Field. When I see my dad at a game, he is truly in his element, momentarily transformed back into a little boy obsessed with Ed Kranepool. For me, it is a true joy to carry this legacy, even with all the pain that comes along with it. Lindsay, New York

An Immigrant Sees Himself in Lou Gehrig

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The Yankees player Dwight Gooden warming up before a game against the Athletics in 1997.CreditShuyun Lo

Like Mr. Kang, I am an immigrant, without any long family or parochial sports traditions to follow. As a suburban Chicago third grader in the fall of 1977, I remember reading in class about Reggie Jackson’s three home runs in a World Series game. Curiosity about the Yankees led me to read about Lou Gehrig, another child of immigrants. That sealed it; I became a Yankees fan.

Certainly the Cubs and White Sox could not win many games or my heart in the 1970s. Nor did I understand the bittersweet rewards of being a long-suffering fan, at least until the Yankees of the 1980s introduced that pathos, as well as the realization that I was a fan of the “evil empire.” Decades have passed now, with several other cities and teams fleetingly attractive. I imagine that I have remained a Yankees fan as a way of honoring those early days of my immigrant childhood and the belief in a nation with so many freedoms. Shuyun, San Jose, Calif.

A Son Calls the Shots

I was born in San Francisco and raised in Oakland, but despite my multitude of regional options, my first favorite team was the New York Mets. My dad was through the roof that his baseball-obsessive son had fallen for his favorite team. But we didn’t live in Queens, so we had to settle on going to Giants games. And I couldn’t resist. I split from my dad’s team and became a Giants fan.

A decade later, when I left home for college in New York, my dad and I used baseball as the fulcrum for our catch-up calls. ‘‘How are classes?’’ ‘‘Oh, you know, good. But did you see Panda hit for the cycle last week?’’ ‘‘Unreal!’’ Those days, he was the only friend I had to talk Giants with. And boy did they give us a lot to talk about. My freshman year was 2010, and I don’t need to remind anyone (but I can’t resist) that the Giants fared pretty well in those years. Those calls meant the world to me, and despite the 3,000-mile gap, we were closer than ever.

Four years and two titles later, he called to tell me he had officially decided to switch allegiances. Fourteen years after his son had left his Mets to root for the Giants, he found he couldn’t resist, either. So many dads determine their kid’s favorite team, but how many kids get to say they determined their dad’s? Jack, Oakland, Calif.

Lifelong Cubs Fans Finally Get a Championship

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Jean basking in the Cubs’ World Series victory last November.CreditJean Henegan

I was born into a Chicago Cubs-loving family. I’m third-generation on my mother’s side and fourth on my father’s. I went to my first game when I was 4 or 5, on the same weekend as the Chicago Air and Water Show. The planes did flybys of Wrigley, mesmerizing many fans who were stuck watching the subpar talent on the field. But all I remember is being mad that they were interrupting the game.

Three of my grandparents never got to see a Cubs World Series victory. My 97-year-old grandpa did last year. Being a Cubs fan taught me many great life lessons: Success isn’t guaranteed, disappointment is temporary and having faith is an essential part of life. Yes, being a Cubs fan now means rooting for a winner, but it also means acknowledging the history that got us here. And remembering those who didn’t get to see a championship they hoped for all their lives. Jean, Chicago

The Lefty Who Loved Mel Parnell

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Bill donning the color of his favorite team, the Boston Red Sox.CreditBill Starr

When I was 8, I realized I was a left-hander, but unfortunately all my baseball-loving friends were righties who teased me about being “different.” Eight-year-olds don’t take well to teasing, and I cried until my father happened to mention a pitcher for the Red Sox, Mel Parnell, who was a very successful southpaw. I started reading about him on the sports pages and became a big fan, even to the point of calling myself “Little Mel.” Of course that led me to follow his exploits and those of his team. I’ve been a Sox follower since 1948. Bill Starr, Litchfield, Conn.

Why Not Cheer for Teams That Rhyme?

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James in a Jets jersey in 2010, diverging from his father’s loyalty to the Dolphins.CreditJames Dolan

I grew up in a household full of Miami Dolphin lovers. So, being the rebellious 5-year-old that I was, I decided to cheer for the New York Jets, one of the Dolphins’ fiercest rivals. A short time after, I thought to myself, Why not cheer for teams that rhyme?

Thus, my fascination with the New York Jets, New York Mets and Brooklyn (formerly New Jersey) Nets began. Oddly enough, my dad is an ardent Dolphins, Yankees and Knicks fan.

To this day, I still cheer for the three rhyming teams that attracted me at the ripe age of 5. What can I say? Rhyming is timeless. James, Summit, N.J.

Alice Yin is an intern for The Times.

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